Page 73 of Hook Up

The blindness is a bitch. The myriad of scrapes and bruises? A bonus in this shit show.

Gigi took her time with me in the shower, her hands so gentle as they washed away the debris of the day before. Still, she seems to be holding back her affections, and I need them now more than ever.

I’m likely paranoid. It’s less than twenty-four hours since I was involved in a massive wreck. Per the doctors, I’m lucky to be alive. Add in the fact that I can’t see and my entire world is upside down.

Besides, she’s here. That’s all that matters. Over the top affections will come, all in good time.

“Feel better?” Greer asks, perching next to me in the bed. Thankfully, they changed the sheets while I was in the shower. The only thing worse than hospital food? Cold hospital food stuck to your bare ass. Trust me on this one.

Raising my hand in the direction of her voice, I sigh when her fingers close around it. “What am I going to do, Gigi?”

“Get better so you can go home.”

“What then? I can’t feed myself. How am I supposed to do this?”

“I told you. I’m here. I’ll take care of you. Besides, I’m a nurse, so it’s a lucky coincidence.”

“When I mentioned that you’re a sexy nurse, this is not what I had in mind.”

Greer giggles, leaning over to steal a kiss. Hey, at least this time it’s on the mouth. But before my hand can tangle in her dark locks, she pulls back, giving my hand an awkward pat.

What the fuck?

“Your doctor is here,” Gigi murmurs. “Good morning, Dr. Marsh.”

Please let him have some positive news. “Hey Doc, what’s the good word?”

“Are you okay with me speaking in front of your wife?”

“Obviously. She can translate what you’re saying into English.”

He chuckles, but I detect something else in his voice—hesitation.

Shit.

“The good news is that there doesn’t appear to be any bleeds or swelling in the brain, beyond the optic nerve. That being said, I had hoped the steroids we started last night would relieve some of the pressure, but it’s still too early to tell.”

“Tell what?”

“How much vision you can expect to regain.”

“I can detect brightness this morning.” My words fly like bullets from my mouth as I flounder to escape the sinking feeling surrounding me.

“That’s a step in the right direction, and I believe there’s a good chance you’ll regain more vision in the coming days or weeks.”

I hold up my hand, cutting him off as my world crumbles around me. “I need all my vision back.”

“One step at a time, Mr. Gray. At this point, we’re cautiously optimistic that you should regain partial vision. What that means exactly, we can’t be sure. But we will continue the steroids while observing you for the next couple of days. Precautionary measure. Since you’re stable, you’ll be moved to a regular room, where you can begin working with occupational therapy.”

“What the hell does that mean?” These terms fly at me, but I’m unable to wrap my mind around anything beyond the idea that this dark hell might last forever.

“The occupational therapist has special training to help people learn to navigate—”

“Without sight.” I spit out the words, hating the taste of them. Hating the sound of them even more. “I can’t live without my eyes, doctor. We need to do more.”

“They’re doing everything they can.” Greer strokes my forearm, but I shake her off. The last thing I need is her coddling.

“No, they aren’t, or I’d have my sight back. There has to be more we can do.”

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